


Heart and Soul Encore

by Pandamomochan



Series: Heart and Soul [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Supersons, superbat - Fandom
Genre: Attempt at Humor, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Romance, Smut, first chapter is Supersons, older JonDami romance, one shots, second chapter is Superbat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamomochan/pseuds/Pandamomochan
Summary: A collection of one shots centered around the characters from the Superbat music AU "Heart and Soul," (a sequel of sorts because I just couldn't let these characters completely go).Maestro Wayne and composer Clark's relationship continues to grow, and a new romance blossoms between Damian and Jon ;)





	1. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to make the first story in this series Superbat related, but I feel after how long I made the DamiJon fans wait during “Heart and Soul,” I owe you this fic first ;) 
> 
> Sorry it took so long. I was very busy due to work and then I went on vacation. Hopefully no one has forgotten this story completely just yet, and I hope this sweet little JonDami romance was worth the wait.
> 
> If you didn’t read the first story, I think you can still enjoy this one shot. The only thing you need to know is that it’s set in an AU world where Damian is a very dedicated violinist and Jon is his accompanying pianist, roommate, and best friend.
> 
> If you are just here for the Superbat, come back next chapter. I have fun plans for Bruce and Clark ;) Thanks again for reading!

Jon 11/Damian 14

The faint caress of lips against skin had the boy instantly recoiling and jumping two feet into the air.

“Wha-what do you think you’re doing!” Damian balked while wildly rubbing the area he’d just been kissed.

It was all unexpected. One moment, Damian was confessing apprehensions about his upcoming competition, and the next moment Jon was leaning in and placing a soft peck on his cheek.

Jon blinked back at his friend, eyes pooling with azure confusion.

“Eh?” he answered before his brow furled. “I was just giving you a kiss for luck.”

That’s right. Even though he’d never admit it, Damian was anxious. He’d never really experienced failure until his first year of high school. That’s when he finally got a taste of defeat.

Eliminated in only the second round of his first major competition was quite the upset for the young violinist who never really lost.

Damian tried to feign indifference over the loss, but Jon knew his friend’s seemingly limitless confidence had been shook.

That’s why Damian started to practice even harder and became even more receptive to his father and Maestro Kyle’s instruction.

Biding his time and waiting for a chance at redemption, and though he was still teeming with his usual confidence, Jon could tell Damian was nervous.

The way Damian’s lips pierced tightly together, the pale color in his face, the bit of sweat collecting inside his palms. There was no denying it.

That’s why Jon decided to comfort his friend, but the reaction that followed wasn’t what he expected.

All the pigment returned to Damian’s face along with a few more heightened tones of pink.

“A kiss for _luck_?!” Damian exclaimed. “What kind of absurdity…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before it got stifled by an incredulous growl.

“I…well….” Jon stumbled back before innocently looking back at his friend “Was that not right?”

The way Damian’s nose flared was all the answer he needed.

“But my dad always gives Maestro a kiss before he performs.”

Jon didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Damian’s face turned an even brighter shade of red.

“I-” his words and thoughts turned into an incoherent mess, “those two…” No longer able to bear Jon’s questioning gaze, Damian turned his face away and muffled into his hand.

“That is to say…”

Sometimes he forgot how substantial a three year age gap could be.

The heat from his cheeks was hot against his palms as Damian failed to hide the blush taking up the entirety of his face.

“Those two are _much_ better friends then we are.” He finally managed string out. Hopefully Jon wouldn’t ask him to elaborate, and quite frankly, Damian didn’t feel it was his job to explain their unique _friendship_.

The look of disappointment was not missed though when Jon slumped his shoulders. “Oh, I see,” he mumbled while lowering his head. He really thought he and Damian were pretty close, but this kind of answer told him otherwise.

Damian felt a tinge or guilt when he realized Jon was misinterpreting his words. Then again, this was still a better alternative to explaining exactly what he meant.

Eventually, Damian decided to change the subject causing a familiar sneer played its way on his lips.

“Well, it’s not as though I need _luck_ to win any competitions anyways.”

Jon couldn’t contain his snort. Seeing Damian’s haughty expression should’ve been annoying, but instead he felt relieved he was back to his typically confident self.

“Alright, then you better make sure you win.”

“Ttt.” Damian spat back. “As if I need you to tell me that.”

***************Jon 13/Damian 16********************

“Really, Damian, I think we can call it a night,” the boy groaned with a weary sigh.

The older boy scowled down at the younger pianist. Currently Jon was slouched so low over his piano his face was practically pressed down on the keys.

“If you wish to give up because you can’t cut it, that’s fine by me. It’s not as though you’re all that instrumental to my success.”

“Hey now!” Jon groused. “What happened to all that talk of me being your one and only important accompanist?”

“It was a lapse of judgement made back when I was three years too naive.”

Jon’s nose wrinkled, and he frowned. For over three years he’d been putting up with Damian. To think things between them were still like this. Sure they were closer than ever, but that still didn’t change Damian’s superior attitude and even sharper tongue.

Then again, it wasn’t as though Jon didn’t know how to deal with Damian by now. Rather than argue further, he calmly closed the piano fall and stood up. “Okay.”

Damian’s face didn’t change but the way he inhaled was a tip off he was surprised by Jon’s reaction.

Then again, the older Jon got the less patient and more defiant he seemed towards Damian’s attitude. Still, there was no way he’d abandon Damian now? It’s not as though Damian really meant what he said. Surely Jon understood how important he was as not only his accompanist but also as his friend.

After patting down his jeans, Jon gathered up his things and started to leave. Damian gritted back his protest and watched Jon’s movements with a stoic scowl.

It wasn’t until Jon started to pass him that he stopped.

Damian’s annoyance spiked when Jon leaned down over him. He really hated how Jon lorded his superior height over him. He started to back away but Jon’s drawl voice made him stop.

“Just so you know, I’m not giving up.”

Jon’s lips turned to a smile and for some reason it was the only thing Damian could look at.

“I get that you’re nervous about your qualifier, Damian. I know how important it is that you to get first chair, but I really don’t think we need to practice anymore because I know for a fact there isn’t anyone who’s going to beat you.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. Why did Jon have such a questionable smirk?

“But if you’re still worried that your skill alone isn’t enough…” Damian’s eyes widened. Why were Jon’s lips getting closer?

“Maybe a good luck ki-”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Damian exploded as he pushed Jon with all his might.

Jon lost his balance and fell over backwards.

It wasn’t until the erratic thrumming of his heart settled that Damian heard Jon’s hoots.

The younger boy could barely breathe and didn’t even attempt to stand back up. He was too busy holding his stomach and trying to contain his laughter.

All the warmth in Damian’s face transformed from embarrassed heat to blazing fury.

“Jonathan Samuel KENT!” He snarled. “HOW DARE YOU-”

“I’m sorry Damian, I’m sorry,” Jon tried to apologize in between laughs.

Unfortunately his tear filled eyes and breathless chortles did nothing in the way of convincing the angry violinist and soon after Damian was shoving his instrument back in its case and storming off the stage.

Just as he reached the doorway, a hand suddenly caught his arm.

“Damian, wait!” Jon pleaded.

Damian intended to ignore him, but the desperation in Jon’s voice tempered his rage.

“Damian, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to assure.

Damian couldn’t’ explain why, but hearing those words made him feel more disappointed than relieved.

“Really, I was just trying to help calm your nerves, but I see my joke wasn’t really funny.”

“Your humor is about as tactless as you are, Kent.” Damian huffed.

Jon let out a small nervous laugh. It wasn’t a good sign when Damian reverted to calling him by his last name.

He cleared his throat and hoped speaking more soberly would help.

“Yeah, but regardless of my bad humor, I really did mean everything I said.”

Jon took a step closer and Damian felt his breath hitch when he met Jon’s sweet smile and kind eyes.

“You really are the most talented violinist I know, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You’re going to kick butt during your tryouts tomorrow. There’s no way anyone can beat you.”

A low hum sounded from Damian and his features softened.

How did Jon always manage to ease him so effortlessly? Even after so many years, Damian never had to worry because Jon was always there beside him, both on the stage and in his life.

Finally Damian smirked back at Jon and simply replied. “As if I need you to tell me that.”

************Jon 15/Damian 18********************

“That’s the last of it.” Jon smiled while triumphantly clapping his hands together in a dusting motion.

“Yes, the movers will be here soon,” Damian nodded while thoughtfully looking over all the boxes.

“We barely finished packing in time. Did we really have to practice so long right before?”

“Typical,” Damian ticked. “Kent is bellyaching.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Jon defended. “I was just saying that we were cutting it kind of close, but really I wanted to practice even longer since this is our last…”

Jon’s voice trailed and suddenly the room was silent.

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Both boys already knew what he was going to say.

“Damian…” Jon quietly spoke. “I’m glad you were accepted into the college you really wanted to go to…”

He started to sift a restless hand through his hair. “I just wish it wasn’t so far away…”

Damian’s eyes fell shut, but he didn’t reply.

Now Jon’s gaze was drifting towards the ground. “I hope I’ll get along with my next roommate.”

“I’m sure someone like you will,” Damian sighed.

Jon swallowed hard as though it would swill back his next words but failed.

“And I hope you’ll get along with your next accompanist…”

Damian’s grimace tightened and the dull ache he felt every time he thought about their inevitable separation returned to his chest. Once again, a three year age gap was coming between them.

“I mean, it’s not as though we won’t still talk online, or over the phone, and I’ll see you when you come to visit, I just…” Jon let out a dejected laugh. “I’ll miss playing with you is all…”

“Then practice hard,” Damian commanded.

Jon looked back at Damian. “Huh?”

There was not even an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

“Practice hard so I don’t have to _settle_ with your replacement for very long.”

“I…” Jon met Damian’s gaze.

Even if his mouth said one thing, Damian’s eyes never lied. They were so piercing and resolute. So much so, they stripped away every one of Jon’s pretenses till there was no doubt left in his heart.

“Okay,” Jon promised with a smile. Then it faded, and his demeanor darkened.

Damian couldn’t quite read Jon’s expression. Sure he looked a bit nervous but there was also something vaguely ardent behind his eyes.

“And in the meant time…” Jon hummed while leaning in closer. Damian felt a shiver run up his spine when he heard his deep voice.

He instinctively took step back but was met with the resistance of boxes stacked behind him.

“How about a kiss farewell?”

“What?!” Damian recoiled.  

This only caused Jon’s lips to arc further.

“My dad always gives Maestro one before he leaves to play abroad.”

Now Damian was frantically searching Jon’s eyes. Was this another childish prank or naïve misunderstanding? How could Jon look so playful and sincere at the same time?

Not sure how to react, Damian tried to brush it off and lightly pushed Jon away.

“I already told you before. We’re not friends like them.”

One of Jon’s hands suddenly came up and planted itself against the boxes pinning Damian in place.

He leaned in closer. “Why can’t we be?”

Damian felt trapped both by his position and by Jon’s gaze. This wasn’t a game anymore and both boys knew it. So why did he look so certain? Did Jon’s chest not feel like bursting too?

“J-Jon?” Damian asked.

“Damian…” he softly answered before drifting his eyes shut and closing the distance between them.

The erratic thrumming pulsing inside of Damian started to drown out the world leaving Damian with only the noise of his thoughts.

_“He’s going to kiss me?! This scrappy **cheeky** child is going to kiss me! The one whose been by my side for the last five years. The one who always puts up with me and seen me through thick and thin…The one I care for deeply…my treasured accompanist, my **best** friend…my…”_

Any thoughts beyond this were fleeting now as Damian realized his eyes were shut too, and he was holding his breath.

The anticipation was coursing fear inside his veins but even more so an exhilaration that made his heart skip.

He could feel Jon’s warmth, hear his breaths, and practically taste his approaching lips.

A light tapping sounded.

“You boys ready?” a voice asked from outside the door.

“JON! DAMIAN!” Clark shouted.

The large crashing of boxes had the man instantly rushing the room.

That’s when he saw Jon practically lying on top of Damian with a clutter of boxes scattered around them.

“Oh, h-hey dad,” Jon sheepishly laughed while looking at his dad with the most guilty smile.

Damian sat up and roughly pushed Jon away.

“Damian, are you alright?” Clark asked. The boy’s face was beet red, and his eyes looked a little shot.

“Fine,” Damian gritted lowly.

“Umm…” Clark mumbled. He then looked towards his son who still had a dopey uneasy grin, and the flush Damian who refused to make eye contact with either of them.

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know your dad will be here in a few minutes so you can start making your way outside now.”

“Okay,” Damian answered with a nod as he went to retrieve his rolling luggage.

Clark handed Jon a second suitcase and smiled at his son. “I’ll stay behind and watch for the movers so you can get the last of your goodbyes.”

“Ah yeah,” Jon laughed nervously. “ _Was_ working on that…”

After that, the two friends walked together in strained silence until they reached a sleek black Lexus waiting just outside their dorm.

“Thanks Jon,” Bruce smiled as he took the bag from him and started to load it in the trunk. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us to the airport?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t need to put this off anymore. I’ll just stay behind with my dad and help with the moving. I already got to say my goodbyes, so now it’s your turn, Maestro.”

Bruce let out an amused chuckle of acknowledgement before waving at Jon and heading back inside the car.

Damian was already buckled up inside the passenger seat still refusing to meet Jon’s eyes but conveniently had his window rolled down.

Jon leaned inside and brushed back the messy curls always obstructing his face and smiled. “Damian, I promise I won’t be far behind. So…you’ll wait up for me…”

There was a hopeful inflection at the end of Jon’s sentence as though he were asking rather than making a statement.

The older boy snorted and smirked up at his friend. “As if I need you to tell me that.”

************Jon 17/Damian 20****************

“Did you just hear her play? She was AMAZING!” Jon exclaimed before sinking lower into his seat and mumbling dejectedly. “They were all amazing…”

He started to wreck his fingers through his hair causing the rarely combed curls to come undone.

“I…there’s just no way I can do this. I’m not nearly as good as them. I…”

Damian watched quietly as his friend wallowed deeper into his existential despair.

Why was Jon always so hard on himself? Didn’t he realize how talented he was? Not only did his father handpick him as one of his students, but he was also the one Damian recognized as his accompanist. Of course they were best friends, but Damian had too much pride in his work to choose Jon solely for that reason alone.

Damian knew he should’ve said his thoughts out loud. He really wanted to encourage Jon but knew he was no good at expressing himself.

Usually if he tried comfort anyone, it was misinterpreted and escalated into some kind of argument, and really that was the last thing Jon needed right now.

“Damian, I’m so sorry,” Jon half sobbed into his hands. “I don’t think I will do well enough at this audition to get accepted.”

Damian clenched hard on his jaw and frowned when he heard these words.

“I really wanted to attend the same school as you. I don’t want to stop being your accompanist anymore. I-”

The words chocked inside his throat when he was suddenly yanked up by the tie.

What followed after was clumsy, desperate, and filled with a passion bridled for one too many years. Jon didn’t even know how to respond properly. He was too stunned to move, and when Damian finally pulled their lips apart, his stupefied expression hadn’t left his face.

Damian’s cheeks were heated a crimson shade, and Jon could tell he was struggling to maintain his frown.

“If the talent, skill, and hard work both I and father recognize you for isn’t enough, then surely there is no way you can lose after receiving a _good luck_ kiss from me.”

Jon felt his breath return when Damian finally released his tie, but it was more due to the grip around Jon’s heart being freed once Damian closed his brilliant blue eyes.

“Mr. Kent, are you ready?” A woman asked from the doorway.

His mouth was still agape, but he couldn’t verbalize an answer and just nodded.

She didn’t look at all startled when she entered. More than likely she missed what occurred just seconds before her entrance.

Damian had his back to Jon, and he was unable to see his face.

Jon tried to straighten up his appearance before following her but still looked about as ruffled as his hair.

“J-just so you know,” he stammered when he reached the door. “Once I get admitted into the school, I expect something much better when I’m congratulated.”

Damian’s body stiffened a little, but when he answered his voice was light enough to give away his smile.

“Then you better not disappoint me.”

Jon grinned from the deepest part of his heart and answered.

“As if I need you to tell me that.”

The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know this was just a complete mess of fluff. I think though after everything I put these two through, and how cute they were in the last fic, they needed this kind of sweet story.
> 
> When I first wrote Heart and Soul, Supersons hadn’t even come out yet (it wasn’t even announced), so I never saw Damian and Jon interact. Later I realized though how much they argue, so this time I wrote a much more mature and defiant Jon ;) 
> 
> I have to say, I do love how much they sass each other. I think befriending people his own age is so much better for Damian, because I feel like he spent so much time in the company of adults. So he always felt the need to act more mature and over compensated and that is the reason his attitude was not the best.
> 
> The less confident you are, the more defensive people tend to be, and I feel like Damian was always trying to be recognized by people who had so many more years of experience (it’s okay, you’re still so smol, you will be a good hero one day, so don’t rush it).
> 
> As for Jon, I like that he doesn’t take Damian’s shit. Since he is his peer, he speaks with Damian much more honestly rather than talk down to him or try to be an overly polite adult. In any case, they are a good dynamic, and I really enjoyed writing this fic. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I promise I will have some nice Superbat moments in the next chapter ;)
> 
> Oh, and of course in the tradition of the last fic, I always try to find a nice song to pair with every chapter. 
> 
> I think since Jon and Damian have a cute little budding romance, one of my favorite piano violin tango's is the perfect musical depiction of their developing relationship. Just the mood of this song reminds of the thrill one gets while chasing after something worth loving ;)
> 
> So here we have Carlos Gardel's famous tango _"Por Una Cabeza"_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykuy5Rrcjzw
> 
> Also enjoy the song lyrics because I didn't know how wonderfully bittersweet. Love is so painful but completely worth the ache and the man in this song realizes he should quit chasing after such bittersweet things but is always reminded of how worthwhile even losing can be sometime: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/tango/articles/28076/title/lyrics-english-por-una-cabeza-head-horse


	2. Gymnopédies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the Superbat chapter I promised for those who were waiting ;)

To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

He’d been on tour for nearly three weeks. In the past, being away so long didn’t even phase him, but that was before he had something back home to miss.

“Go have fun, Bruce,” Clark encouraged. “I’ll miss you like crazy, but when you get back, I’ll be the first one waiting to give you a nice welcome back home kiss.”

Bruce grumbled a little over Clark’s enthusiasm while the larger man snuggled him tightly, but even despite all his posturing, Bruce never forgot Clark’s promise.

That’s why when he arrived at the airport with not even so much as an acknowledgement text, he was a bit upset. Sure they never made any official plans to meet on the day of his return, but Bruce still expected Clark to be the first one there to greet him.

The writer would surprise his beloved maestro at the terminal with wide open arms and a signature dopey Kent grin, and Bruce would feign surprise while begrudgingly accepting his affection with a contentment he couldn’t hide for long.

Bruce usually wasn’t a fan of such attention, but maybe it was okay if it was Clark giving it to him.

“Clark, this is Bruce. I’m back in Gotham…”

 _‘…call me back.’_ He should’ve said, but instead he just ended the message with an unusual pause and abruptly disconnected the line.

Then he stared out the window of his private car ride home, all while frowning at the sour expression reflecting back at him.

**********************************************

“What are you doing here?” a confused Jason asked when Bruce suddenly entered the office and walked past him.

Sometimes when Bruce was away for extended lengths, Jason would stand in as a substitute.

At first, the school was apprehensive about allowing someone who was not affiliated with the academy to instruct their high profile students, but Bruce was insistent about Jason’s abilities and knowledge of his techniques. If anyone understood Bruce’s grueling demanding curriculum, it was the one who suffered through the worst of it.

In the end, Jason didn’t disappoint, and was even offered a teaching position which he declined.

“I thought I told you I’d be returning today.” Bruce answered as he started to empty out the contents of his briefcase.

This wasn’t quite the hello he was expecting. Maybe the people in his life were just terrible at welcoming people back home. Even his own son was _conveniently_ out of town.

“Yeah, I didn’t forget,” Jason shrugged. “I just…well considering how long you’ve been away. I thought you’d be spending your first day taking care of some _neglected_ things.”

Bruce didn’t even attempt to translate Jason’s suggestive inflection and just frowned at his former prodigy.

Assuming Bruce wasn’t comprehending what he was getting at, Jason tried a more direct approach.

“Why aren’t you at home with Clark?”

Of course it didn’t take Jason long to figure out the nature of Bruce and Clark’s relationship. Especially when a certain Dick Grayson seemed to be so generous with his knowledge of Bruce’s affairs.

“Clark is not answering my calls,” Bruce replied flatly.

“Really?” Jason’s brow wrinkled. “But he was so insistent about making sure you wouldn’t return to work until after the weekend.”

“Oh is that what he said,” Bruce snorted while plopping down at his desk and turning on his computer.

For a moment, Jason just stood quietly behind Bruce.

“Okay, well I guess I won’t stick around any longer than I have to. That old priest is practically hopeless without me now anyways.”

Bruce just made a noncommittal sound in response and started thrumming through his emails.

Jason smirked at the maestro who was haplessly clicking through every message without actually reading any. Did the maestro actually come to work just to sulk? It was interesting seeing this side of Bruce, and Jason really couldn’t resist poking and seeing if anything more fun might reveal itself.

“Maybe I’ll check on Clark before heading back to Bludhaven. Jon did mention his dad has a really bad habit of not sleeping and eating properly when his deadlines start approaching.”

He paused and glanced at Bruce. The maestro’s posture had slightly stiffened, and he seemed a bit more alert.

“Also, I heard he’s behind on his work now because he’s been mopey and unmotivated the last few weeks…”

The frequency of Bruce’s mouse clicking started to dwindle.

“And considering Jon and Damian have been away the last few days, I bet no one’s been checking in on that old man. So I guess I’ll be the _Good Samaritan_ the church keeps preaching I should be and make sure he’s not half dead…”

Just a little further, only one more inch to push.

“I mean, usually when people really care about someone, and they act unusually, being worried about them seems like an appropriate response, but what would I know.”

Bruce finally stood up. “Okay, _fine_. I _get_ it,” he clenched. “Jason, I-”

“Yeah, yeah, you have to go back home and make sure you didn’t leave the oven on all this time.”

Bruce just grimaced at Jason and muttered something under his breath before he started to shovel everything back into his bag.

Jason’s grin only widened as he watched Bruce with growing amusement.

“Have _fun_ , maestro.” He added once Bruce made his way to the door. “See you after the weekend.”

Bruce didn’t turn around and only grunted before leaving.

*******************************************************

He’d been sluggish the past few weeks. How had things come to this? After spending so many years alone, he thought he’d be used to this feeling by now.

Sure he still had his parents and Lana. They’d helped so much with raising Jon, but beyond that, he was emotionally closed off. So much so, he learned to accept his loneliness and became numb to the feeling.

Hiding away his pain behind false smiles, only finding joy and happiness through his son, then Bruce came into his life and everything changed. The weight bearing down on his soul was finally lifted, and a new revival took his heart.

To think just a few weeks of separation would bring Clark back to such a low state.

_‘This is what it feels like to be in love.’_

It was agony, it was pain, but more importantly it was happiness, joy, smiles, tears, laughter...proof that he was alive.

This time, though, Clark had made his own bed. He’d been so insistent about encouraging Bruce to tour overseas, even despite knowing how much he’d miss him.

_‘I won’t hold him back. The world deserves Bruce’s music, they **need** to hear his song…’_

Bruce had been so reluctant about performing again. It was obvious his heart was dedicated to teaching now, but Clark knew a star like Bruce would shine brightest in the place he always belonged, and boy had he illuminated the stage.

A new musical sensation they all revered. Sold out concerts and packed arenas. Bruce’s musical voice shook the entire world.

So Clark forced a smile again and sent Bruce on his way, but the time they spent apart was harder than he ever imagined.

When did this happen? When had Bruce become so integral to his life? When did he start to notice the weight of loneliness again?

That’s why Clark was surprised when he awoke to an incredible feeling of liberation, one that filled up his chest completely and spread warmth throughout his entire body.

“Gymnopédie…” he exhaled while blinking his blurry eyes and smiling dreamily at the man sitting at the piano beside him.

The sweet sounds chiming around him had both his mind and heart floating, and in an instant, weeks of hefty loneliness was banished from his heart.

“Bruce?” Clark questioned. The image of the person next to him still wasn’t clear. There was such an ethereal glow surrounding the pianist, but it was a light Clark recognized well.

The same radiance that drew Clark in on the day they first met. The day he first heard that person play. The day all his emptiness was filled.

“Am I dreaming?”

Finally the music faded. The song was complete, and the pianist was turning to face him.

“You are very much awake, _Mr. Kent’s father_.”

“Bu…Bruce?”

“…”

“BRUCE?!”

Suddenly Clark felt the sobering punch of awareness, and he jolted up.

“Bruce what are you doing here? I-” he started to flail about the futon he was lying at fumbling around until he found what he was looking for.

When he saw his phone, his face dropped. “Bruce I’m so sorry! I was going to pick you up at the airport.” He revealed his completely dead phone to the maestro.

“I set my alarm for only a few hours so I would be rested well enough to drive…”

Bruce continued to stare at Clark with a completely unreadable expression but made no move to interrupt Clark’s bumbling apology.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce. I really wanted to be the first person to greet you. I even made reservations at your favorite restaurant, oh geez, what time is it now?”

“1040,” Bruce finally replied.

“PM?”

Bruce nodded.

“I’ve been asleep for over eleven hours!?”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you wake me? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know you are an irresponsible man who neglects himself and needed the rest.”

Clark’s shoulders fell.

“Clark, you truly are a hopeless man without me. Perhaps I shouldn’t leave you alone like this again?”

“No Bruce!” Clark insisted. “You don’t have to do something like that for me. I-”

Bruce held up a piece of paper that immediately stopped Clark’s words inside his throat.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I…” Clark’s mouth tightened into an uncomfortable shape.

Bruce motioned towards the cluttered piano he was sitting at. The piano shelf had stacks of papers strung messily about and the desk beside it was even more in disarray.

“I can see from the mess that is your workspace you are far behind in your work, so why on earth would you take on another job?”

Clark’s eyes drifted guiltily to the side while Bruce continued to study the sheet music he was holding without notice or care.

“I wasn’t aware you decided to write another commission, but I guess it was a good way to pass the time while I was away,” he narrowed his eyes on the paper. “Although you’ve hardly gotten very far in your writing… ”

A thoughtful hum sounded from the maestro. “I wonder though, who is the lucky new artist?”

“Well,” Clark answered. “ _You_.”

Bruce finally looked back at Clark with a stunned expression. “Me?”

Clark shook his head. “Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise for when you got back, but I…just like you said, I didn’t get very far.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brow. “I just couldn’t get the notes to come together at all. It wasn’t the same like the last time we were apart. Before, the only thing I could think about was how much I missed you and wanted you by my side again. So I wrote a song that encompassed everything you are to me because I thought it was the closes I would ever get to having you in my life again, but this time…”

“Clark,” Bruce soothed as he took Clark’s face in his hands and lifted his head back up. “You wrote me an entire opus. That’s more than I could have ever dreamed for, so why do you think it’s neccessary to write me _another_ song?”

“Well…” Clark finally met Bruce’s reassuring gaze. “Because your opus needs a happy ending.”

“What?”

“Bruce, that opus, even though it was inspired by your life story, I wrote it back when we were broken up. Sure there are happy points in it and many hopeful parts as well. Especially the final piece, but afterwards you and I got back together again, and I…” Clark eyes glossed over and his lips turned to an enamored smile.

“Bruce, you have no idea how incredibly happy I am to have you in my life now. Before I met you, my heart was so empty, so much so, I even forgot what it _feels_ like to be lonely, but now…you’re right, I’m hopeless without you.”

Clark let out a loose chuckle as he gestured towards the piles of incomplete work. “You were only gone a few weeks, but look what I a mess I am. I just, I love you so much, and I hope you’re as happy as I am now to have you in my life.”

Clark’s face warped to dejection. “I really wanted to write a song that could show all that happiness, but I…I felt so lonely without you by my side…”

“Clark…” Bruce sighed.

When Bruce left to play abroad, he really didn’t want to go. Sure he loved being on stage again. At one point in his life, playing the piano was all he could’ve ever wished for, but Bruce lost so much after weathering his many tragedies, until even his desire to play was lost

After that, he truly believed his life had no purpose.

Sure he took on instructing as a way to sustain any meaning in his life. He even struggled to help his son with his musical growth.

In those ways, Bruce really thought he could at least use his skills and influence to support his son and students. Then maybe even a purposeless maestro could help others find their untapped value.

Then Clark came into his life and everything changed.

He showed Bruce there was so much more to life than trying to find worth and meaning in one’s existence. That merely being happy and loving was a good enough reason to be alive.

All this time, Bruce tried so hard to support others, but now Clark was the one who supported him and told Bruce he did the same by simply living.

Clark had no idea how much he meant to Bruce. If he had to, Bruce would easily abandon the piano he once thought he could never live without for him.

Being on the road all those weeks was so lonely. He really looked forward to returning back home. So much so, he resorted to sulking like an unreasonable child when Clark wasn’t the first person he saw when he came back.

Luckily, as cheeky as he might be, Jason reminded Bruce that his pride wasn’t worth being another second away from the one he loved.

Bruce’s heart swelled when he heard Clark’s words. To think Clark missed him so much but still encouraged him to pursue his dreams. Such a selfless man, what did Bruce do to deserve such happiness?

If only Clark knew the truth. That the only reason Bruce was able to make it all this time apart was because the songs he played were written by Clark. That every time he went on stage, Bruce would think about Clark’s devotion while writing his opus and channeled those feelings and thoughts into every performance.

Whenever he was on stage, it truly felt like Clark was beside him, and even that alone was enough to sustain Bruce through his loneliness, and even despite the hundreds who came to listen, the one Bruce truly played for was always Clark.

Another deep exaltation sounded from the maestro before he abandoned the bench he was at and climbed into Clark’s lap.

“Oh, Clark,” he laughed softly.

Maybe he should tell Clark all these things, but at this moment, more so than words, he wanted to _show_ him.

“Perhaps the reason you couldn’t write your happy ending is because you lacked inspiration?”

“Bruce?”

Clark’s eyes were wide with question.

“My dear _frustrating_ composer,” Bruce sighed. “If you can’t write the notes, then hear them with these lips.” Bruce’s voice was like a whisper as he brought their faces together. “And drink till you’ve had your fill...”

Before Bruce could even close the distance, Clark was meeting the maestro’s mouth for a deep hungry kiss.

Greedily his teeth bit at puckered skin while his tongue invaded every part of Bruce it could touch.

Immediately Bruce was overwhelmed, struggling to breathe between each gap but wanting even less to break the connection of their lips.

When they finally broke apart, both men were gasping breathlessly for air.

“Clark…” Bruce panted before he took Clark’s hand and brought it up to his heaving chest.

“The music of my soul was revived because of you.” Clark’s eyes flitted when he felt Bruce’s heart skip.

Bruce skillfully unlatched the top buttons of his shirt with Clark’s fingers and smirked. “So carve deep into this flesh until you reach what it is you desire.”

Clark’s mouth curved into a smile. “As you wish, _my_ maestro.”

As soon as Bruce released Clark’s hand, fingers were skillfully tearing apart the remaining buttons.

In no time, Bruce’s shirt was tossed to some ill forgotten corner of the room and the maestro was being straddled and pinned into the couch.

Their bodies ground together with frustration between the layers of clothing still between them and Clark’s need grew with every ravenous lap of Bruce’s neck.

“Bruce…” Clark exhaled through kisses. His mouth then moved to languish Bruce’s exposed chest.

Bruce shuddered when he felt warmth engulf a nipple and teeth skid across raw skin.

All the while, Bruce pressed himself deeper into Clark, trying desperately to intertwine their bodies and free them from the maddening separation. Finally the two of them were together again, and Bruce never wanted to come apart.

Fingers worked their way up Clark’s spine, raveling into damp locks and drawing Clark’s lips impossibly closer.

He couldn’t see his smile but heard Clark’s pleased hum. Bruce’s eagerness was encouraging but impeding his exploration.

The hands clawing at Clark were suddenly seized and pressed firmly into the staunch springs of Clark’s paltry futon.

A small sound of protest swelled from Bruce’s lips as he looked up at Clark through lust shot eyes. Those dark sultry irises had Clark’s throat tightening as the summit of their gazes aligned into unspoken desire.

Within seconds hands scrambled in defiance of their material barriers. The sound of ripped seams and pulled apart strings barely even heard between triumphant gasp and celebratory sighs.

Finally free of any further restraints, Bruce could feel the sensation of skin against skin. It was a blissful heat and his body ached with anticipation.

Bruce lifted his body up to meet the inviting warmth, sliding further up Clark’s form and slowly rocking their hardened lengths together.

A low gasp trembled against Bruce and the tongue dragging along his throat pulled away.

“Bruce…” Clark sighed as he admired the man beneath him.

Bruce’s lips were swollen and sweat was pouring down kiss bruised skin and gashes left by barely restrained teeth. The sight of Bruce was a maddening seduction.

Clark knew he wouldn’t last much longer while taking in this vision.

“Clark…” Bruce whined when he felt the weight above him disappear, but seconds later Clark was returning with a bottle of lube he’d pulled from his desk.

“Cark, I need-” Bruce barely quivered.

“Yes, I know,” Clark hushed, “But it’s been awhile-”

Bruce shook his head and swatted at the slick fingers tracing taut skin.

“Clark, please” he all but begged.

It was almost enough to win him over, but Clark knew better than to give into his demands.

“Patience, Bruce,” he lulled. “You’ll thank me later.”

Bruce wanted to protest further but the fingers caressing his cock had rendered him speechless.

“I wonder,” Clark sighed as he nibbled on an ear. “When you were alone at night, did you _think_ about me the same way I _thought_ about you?”

“Clark…” Bruce panted. Both his mind and his body were being completely unraveled by this man.

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“ _Hah_ …” Bruce squirmed deeper into those probing fingers, the pressure of an unattainable climax nearly driving him crazy.

“Just like this isn’t enough?”

Now Bruce was trying to smother out Clark’s words of torment with his mouth. The deep bass of Clark’s voice was making him shiver.

“Tell me, Bruce,” Clark hummed between their messy kiss. “How many nights did you _think_ about me?”

“Enough!” Bruce growled.

Blood was drawn. Maybe Clark deserved it for going a little too far with his teasing.

Bruce’s frown was now smeared with splotches of crimson dripping from Clark’s lower lip.

Clark chuckled to himself before capturing that sinfully scarlet pout.

“Cla-” Bruce started to complain when he tasted the acrid copper, but his protests quickly turned into a muted gasp. Without any warning, Clark slipped completely inside the unsuspecting man.

“Damnit,” Bruce tremored, cursing himself for nearly coming. Clark echoed his sentiment with an indiscernible murmur of nonsense.

Bruce wasn’t even breathing anymore. His mind was too absorbed by the blend of pleasure and anguish stretching around a searing hot cock.

The way Bruce’s body seized on entry and the nails streaking shallow scars up his back were all signs that Clark needed to wait for Bruce to adjust.

It was sweet torture edging Clark towards a primal state of madness. He struggled against his desire afraid what might become of his steadily diminishing mind.

Somehow he managed to weave together a few stray thoughts, grasping at them in hopes they’d pull him back to humanity.

“So tight…” he hissed. Those sweet velvety folds were all but strangling his barely containable need.

A crooked smile then edged his lips. “Maybe you didn’t _think_ about me as much as I thought.”

“Sh-shut up,” Bruce gritted, but the shake in his voice hardly held any venom to his words.

Clark just chuckled before lifting up on his knees. “Or maybe I should give you a better sendoff next time? Then you will _think_ about me _every_ night.”

“Clark!” Bruce gasped when his legs were pulled forward by the ankles.

The sudden shift in weight had Clark nudging even deeper and Bruce’s back pushing back into the cushions.

Bruce started to move a hand to smother out his cries, but Clark intercepted it and forced him to touch himself.

Bruce couldn’t even bring himself to resist. Not when Clark was rocking so perfectly in time with each self-serving stroke.

With every roll of Clark’s hips, Bruce felt more of himself come undone. His pride, his ego, his _voice,_ none of it seemed to matter anymore. The only thing he cared about in this moment was all the pain and pleasure, the blissful agony, the heat between them, the man above him.

“I missed you so much Bruce,” Clark professed through a flurry of kisses all up and down his throat. “ _I_ thought about _you_ every night.”

Bruce’s breaths were uneven and shallow. His lungs were on fire. He tried to speak but the words just knotted inside his throat.

“Bruce, I _love_ you.”

The maestro shook his head hoping Clark could understand. The nod was more than just acceptance but an admission as well.

Still uncertain if his unspoken confession was received, Bruce pulled Clark in for another frantic kiss, embracing the man completely and without any restraint.

Clark didn’t need to hear the words. Everything he needed to know was sensed between lips, heard in long sighs, felt by legs wrappiing and heels digging like spurs.

“So close…” Clark panted.

Bruce was grinding into him with a need Clark could barely sate, and the rhythm of their movements had turned into a flurry of passion.

Bruce lifted off the couch, back arching, and orgasm hitting him without any warning.

All sounds beyond his own hoarse voice drowned out and the only thing Bruce could do was _feel._

The spasms of his body, his muscles convulsing, the sensation of his lover riding him until searing heat was spilling inside and out…it was almost unbearable.

Bruce heard a faint sigh. Murmured words beyond human language, but through the connection of their bodies, Bruce’s heart understood well what only two souls aligned could perceive.

 _‘Yes…’_ he answered back. ‘ _Me too_...’

********************************************

His body was stiff.

Sure a bit of pain was expected after such an _enthusiastic_ excursion, but this was more the ache caused by discount furniture that didn’t even fit one man comfortably.

Bruce really hated Clark’s beat up old futon. He tried many times to get him to replace it, but the conversation always ended with Clark raving about “the marvel which is the _sofa bed_.”

Realizing Clark was no longer with him, Bruce attempted to stretch out a little. He barely found any comfort though and flinched when he felt a sharp rush of pain shoot up from his lower extremities.

Something was going to have to give. Either Clark was going to get a new couch, or Bruce would be pounding Clark into those cheap plastic springs.

Bruce’s smirk quirked a little at the thought. Maybe it was about time the tables turned in their dynamic, at least for one night. Then maybe Bruce could render the sofa bed monstrosity broken beyond repair.

The smell of freshly brewing coffee and something greasy suddenly interrupted his thoughts. No doubt Clark was cooking something. He could hear the man humming from the kitchen. Something he always seemed to do whenever he was performing a menial task. Truly music was always in that man’s heart.

Bruce wasn’t much of a breakfast eater, but he humored Clark’s efforts and desire to spoil him. Also, the proud face he made while presenting his creations made it all worthwhile to the maestro.

Bruce eventually willed the energy to sit up and readied himself. If anything, he desperately needed the coffee and the blaring sun shining directly on his face was not helping his decaffeinated state.

“Hm?” Bruce mumbled when something on the piano suddenly caught his eye.

**********************************************

“Good morning, Bruce.” Clark greeted as he entered the room with a tray of food and mug in tow.

To his surprise, there was no grumpy maestro hiding under the covers complaining about his futon and the _intentionally_ undrawn curtains, but rather a man sitting completely naked at the piano trembling.

It didn’t take very long for Clark to realize what was wrong.

“C-Clark,” Bruce stammered his hand shaking as he continued to look over the score in his hand. “What is _this_?”

Clark’s cheeks heated to the same shade as Bruce’s pink ears.

“Ah! Umm…” Clark immediately set down the cup and tray and scrambled to gather the other papers cluttering his piano. “Bruce I-”

“Did you write all of this last night?”

“Y-yeah,” Clark stammered. “I couldn’t sleep. I felt too inspired so I thought I’d work on your song-”

“ _MY_ song!” Bruce erupted. He then turned towards the composer with wide eyes. “Clark, there is no way I could ever play _this_ on stage!”

“Heh,” Clark chuckled nervously. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Then why on earth would you write this _pornographic_ …” Bruce couldn’t even finish his sentence. To think Clark had the skill, no, _gall_ to produce such a thing.

Many boasted about Clark’s ability to put any person or thought into song, but to take everything they did last night and write it so perfectly into musical form was beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine.

“Sorry, Bruce!!” Clark apologized. “You were just so incredibly sexy last night, and even while you were asleep you were saying the cutest things, so I really couldn’t help my-”

Bruce rolled up the paper in his hand and smacked Clark over the head. “I have half a mind to tear _you_ and _this_ apart!”

“ _Bruce_!” Clark cowered.

“However…”

Clark reopened his scrunched eyes when he heard Bruce hum and was surprised to see a playful curl on the maestro’s lips.

“It would be a crime to destroy such a magnificently put together piece.”

Clark felt the courage to smile back. “Oh?”

Bruce idled a little closer towards the man sitting next to him. “Well, you did say this was _my_ song.”

“I did.” Clark grinned as Bruce started to slide into his lap.

“Then it’s nothing short of a masterpiece.”

“Agreed,” Clark nodded.

“Perhaps I should perform it now?”

Clark was already wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist.

“But _only_ for you.”

“Of course,” Clark chuckled.

Then panic suddenly rose. Without warning Bruce pushed Clark into the piano and pinned him roughly in place. “But when maestro performs, maestro _commands_ the stage.”

“W-what?” the pale Clark stammered.

A devilish trill sounded from Bruce and his smirk bowed. It was about time Clark got a new futon.

The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to bring Maestro Wayne and composer Clark back together again <3 After everything they went through at the end of the first story, I really thought they deserved a nice light and playful moment together.
> 
> Of course, the story got a little away from me and there were many moments of pining, but really I think it only shows how much these two are really in love. Before they could barely be honest with themselves because they were both so emotionally numb, but now they can even survive the aches and pains of love. Love is such a rollercoaster of emotions, but these two are happy to take it on as long as they are together ^_^
> 
> Haha, this is also my ‘attempt’ at writing smut again (it’s so hard). I wanted to add it at the end of the final chapter but it was already too long, but I’m glad I waited because now Bruce and Clark are even closer and even more playful, so it ended up being more fun to write (and hopefully read),
> 
> In any case, thank you so much again for taking the time to read and continuing to follow the adventures of these to idiots in love! Thank you all for the support, and I hope to share more precious moments in the future.
> 
> Here is the song Bruce was playing for Clark. Maestro won’t admit that he was trying to give Clark sweet dreams ;)
> 
> Erik Satie: _Gymnopédies_ : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-Xm7s9eGxU
> 
> *******Update*********
> 
> I originally intended to write more chapters for this series but have decided to go on an indefinite writing hiatus. With that being said, I will just end this one-shot series now. Sorry to those who were expecting more and sorry I couldn't have ended this series with a better written chapter...


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